Never Let Go
by Raush
Summary: Rogue and Remy are married and start a family. When tragedy strikes, will their love be strong enough to hold them together?
1. Nightmare

**A/N: I am so so sorry that it took me soo long to update. It won't happen again. Everything was just real hectic. And I had a little problem, the longer it was since my last update the more I wrote frantically and the more I wrote, the more crap I wrote. I didn't want you to see the update and read it and then be like "WTF! that load of crap took _that _long to write. So not worth it!" Ok, maybe not exactly like that but something real similar. So I had to give you something worthy (and I hope I did -crosses fingers-).**

**Speaking of worthy (yea I know real subtle transition) I want to thank you for the wonderful, magnificent, marvelous, superb reviews you made! I really wasn't sure what you would think about this story but I was just so estactic that you really liked it! I just wanted to print them all out and hang them on my fridge and I would have to, if it wasn't for my housemates but maybe one day I just might. The reviews were just wonderful!! And thank you soo much for them! They make me happy!**

**And to sum up my rambling I will update more often for two reasons: 1) More updates will mean I get to avoid all those inner dialogues I have with myself and believe me I think I'm doing everyone a favor here because I have been told its not a pretty sight, and 2) I don't want anyone to lose interest in this story because of my laziness.**

**Now that's all cleared up, I just want to thank you for your review again! And I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!**

* * *

1 year 9 months and 28 days. 

That's how long its been since I quit smoking.

1 year 9 months and 28 days.

Funny how some dates stick with you like a string of dates make up our lives, connecting each valuable moment together creating an illusion that our lives are more exciting and important than they actually are. Just living from one date to the next and how one date can say so much.

1 year 9 months and 29 days ago I proposed to Rogue.

I quit smoking the day after I proposed, I couldn't have handled the anxiety of quiting and proposing at the same time. Although I knew Rogue would accept, she dropped so many hints around the apartment, hints that she thought were subtle but were so obvious that a blind man could see them. But then again, Rogue was never one who could be predicted.

It's been 1 year 3 months and 9 days since we married.

We spent 6 months planning a huge wedding. But one day we woke up and decided we couldn't wait. We flew our close friends and family out to this secluded beach and got married on that day.

1 year 1 month and 4 days ago we got pregnant with Brennan. After several tries, which I'm not complaining about, we were finally going to have what waited for all our lives a baby. We were going to be a family.

And 22 weeks and 3 days passed since Brennan was born. That had to be one of the happiest days of my life. We were officially a family. We had everything we needed. Everything we wanted.

But it's been 14 hours since Brennan fell ill and everything came crashing down on me.

About 6 hours since I last talked with Rogue.

I reached into the almost empty pack of cigarettes and pulled one out.

And it's been almost 4 minutes since my last cigarette.

I had so many reasons to quit smoking, not just for my health but also for Rogue. For our life together. For not wanting to leave her by herself because of something that I could have prevented. For everything I wanted to change about myself to make her happy.

But now it's the only thing that let me know that I'm breathing. That maybe there's some far chance, this is some horrible nightmare. That I would wake up any minute now and see Rogue laying next to me murmuring in her sleep. That my son was cooing to himself in his crib. That our lives would go on as they were, simple and happy. But no matter how many times I pinched myself, I wasn't waking.

My son is still in intensive care, suffering from pneumococcal meningitis, an illness that not until 9 hours ago I didn't even know existed. An illness that I can't even understand or help him with. That I can't even save him from.

I was helpless. Completely useless. I made a living fighting against mutants that looked like they were straight out of a nightmare, well at least that was what Rogue said when they freaked her out.

I never had nightmares like that. My nightmares, since I could remember, were never about the boogey man under my bed. It would be one of those dreams everyone had, where you tried to run but you couldn't move like your feet were cemented to the ground. That would always happen to me when some one I loved needed my help and I couldn't do anything to save them. Only stand there unable to move, watching, helpless.

That would just send me springing out of my sweat soaked bed gasping for air. I wouldn't even bother wiping my tears away or turning on any lights as I tip toed my way across the mansion into Tante's room. I would just sit in the corner of her room, my knees bent, arms folded on top of them and my forehead resting on my forearms, just listening to her deep breaths, just comforted to know that I wasn't alone.

But no matter how silent my cries were, she would always wake to them as if they were screams for help and I guess they kinda were. She would pat on the bed next to her and I would scurry up, the way little kids perfected. She would wrap her arms around me and rest her chin on top of my head as I rested my cheek on her shoulder. Then she would ruffle her hand through my hair and say, "No need to fret. Nightmares aren't real. They can't come true."

It was those words that were the most comforting to me. It wasn't just what she said, it was the way she said it with such confidence as if she was making an unspoken promise to me.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, shaking all my thoughts away until I didn't know up from down. Memories were a bitch, they could either be your best friend or your worst enemy.

I looked down at the cigarette; it was just the filter left. I let out a curse, annoyed that I smoked that cigarette too fast and tossed it aside. I reached in the pack and pulled out another one.

"I thought you quit," a voice said behind me and it only took me a moment to pin point who it was.

Not bothering to turn around, I lit the tip of the cigarette with my finger while inhaling deeply. "I t'ought a lot of t'ings, Jean," the smoke escaping from my lips with each word I said.

The clicks of her heels echoed in the cold, bare room in such a way that it made it seem there were ten of her walking towards me. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to say," she finally admitted when she stood next to me. "I—just—I'm real so--"

"S' better t' not say anyt'ing den," I cut her off.

She stopped and looked at me as I stared straight ahead. She studied me as if clues on how to handle everything were written in symbols on my face and she was trying to decode them.

She closed her eyes briefly then began again, "I brought you some coffee." She then motioned to the cups of coffee on the desk behind her but stopped when she realized I wasn't going to look where she motioned.

She followed my gaze through the observation glass and stared at the point of my fixation, "How's she doing?"

I blinked, flicked the ashes away, and inhaled once more before answering. "I dunno."

That was a lie. I knew exactly how she was doing. She was doing horribly. We were doing horribly. The last time I spoke to Rogue, I tried to get her to rest while I would sit with Brennan, promising her that I would wake her if anything changed. But she turned, looked at me, the first time during the 8 hours we sat in that room, and whispered, "Just leave me with my son."

Her voice was no louder than a whisper and her tone was no more than a pleading one, but it was the words and the look in her eyes that made me leave the room. She said, "My son." Never in the four months after Brennan's birth or the nine months she spent carrying him, had she ever referred to Brennan as just "her son." It was always "our baby", "our son", or whenever he was crying late at night or needed his diaper changed, she would always tell me to get "your son."

Her words echoed through my mind but it was the look in her eyes that haunted me, I couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was.

"How long have you been in here?" Jean began.

Was it exhaustion?

"I just talked to Hank..."

Confusion?

"He's been doing everything, calling everyone..."

Hate?

"He's not going to give up..."

Realization?

"We aren't giving up..."

Blame....?

"Remy?" Jean pleaded.

"He's so tiny...so helpless....He's dieing, Jean. M-my little baby's dieing." The words escaped my lips with such ease it betrayed my breaking heart.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Jean's mouth open and close as she tried to think of something to say. Knowing her, she was trying to think of something perfect, something that would make everything all better. But this time there was no such thing.

"H-how do you know? Hank just told me he injected more antibiotics into Brennan's system. He still has a chance Remy." But she already knew the answer.

"It's all in dere," I nodded backwards towards the desk where a red file laid on top. Jean's eyes lit up in recognition; it was Hank's file. The one I stole from him not even an hour ago. The file on my son complete with the diagnosis and prognosis.

Uh, I hated Hank. Hated him for not giving me a direct answer. Hated him for not answering my questions and making me steal his file to find out. Hated him for causing Rogue and I to be in separate rooms. But most of all, I hated him because he couldn't save my baby.

Jean felt the need to argue with every word I said. "It doesn't mean anything. Brennan still has 15 hours to pull through."

That was true. The first 24 hours were crucial, if he didn't wake from his coma in the first 24 hours then he would never wake...

I looked down at Jean and I hated her. Hated her for trying to instill false hope in me. Hated her for being able to leave. To go back to her family. To her two healthy kids. That sure she'll be sad and pity us but in a short time her life, all their lives, will go on as usual while ours, ours will just. . .

"Remy, you have to hold on," her voice strained as if the more she emphasized each word the more I would follow her advice.

...stop.

"We're all her for you, both," Jean touched my arm, either with the intentions of drawing me out of my trance or trying to comfort me. I'm still not sure which one she meant.

But I hated the X-Men. Hated them for having all this fancy shit technology that was worthless when it really mattered. Hated them because they could save anyone but my son. Hated them for being as useless as I am.

"Maybe I should go check on Rogue.."

And I hated Rogue. Hated her for being the first one to see Brennan in this condition. Hated her for not letting me console her. Hated her for pushing me away when I needed her most. Hated her for having the strength to sit with Brennan while I could only stand and watch them through the window in the observation room.

"There is still time, Remy."

I hated Brennan. Hated him for not holding on. Hated him for only being with us for a short time. Hated him for not being with us longer. Hated him for not giving me a chance to show him what a great dad I could be, how much I would spoil him with hugs and kisses. Hated him for making me love him so god damn much that it hurts when I breath.

"Please, answer me Remy..."

And I hated myself most of all. Hated myself for not being able to save him. That I couldn't kiss his pain away. Hated myself that I wasn't the one hooked up all to those machines. Hated myself for not getting out of bed. Hated myself for ignoring my baby's cries for help. Hated myself for having a chance to save him but only got to him when it was too late.

"If only I didn' wait so long.."

"What?" she asked me to repeat it even though she already heard what I said.

I didn't even bother to respond, just inhaled the cigarette deep as if whatever I needed was contained at my fingertips. Just close enough but still not enough to grasp.

She opened her mouth to argue but then submitted, "Fine."

"Jean," I cut her off before she could say anything else, "I 'preciate what yo' tryin t' do. But please, go away."

"Re-"

"Please. Go. Away." I stated more firmly and a bit harsher than I expected.

"Alright, if you need anything..." she didn't finish, she just gently put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, then turned around and walked out of the room.

I kneaded my thumb against my forehead and closed my eyes, losing myself once more.

I slowly opened my eyes just in time to see Hank walk into the examining room with his clipboard in hand. He circled the various machines my son was hooked up to, squatting down looking at all of them from different angles, as if surveying a crime scene. He finally stopped, stood up and began to write his observations down on his clip board. He suddenly paused and turned to face Rogue.

Her head slightly cocked to the right, and I just knew she had to be asking a question, this was the only time she could look vulnerable like a lost puppy. I saw him give her a meek smile and mouth a few words to her. I cursed the room for being sound proof. But Rogue seemed to be satisfied with his answer and she returned her attention back to the plastic incubator that held my son.

Hank mouthed a few words to her again. He started to walk towards the door but hesitated as he walked by Rogue. He paused and gently placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment before he continued out of the room. A hesitation one might normally omit or not even notice but in situations like this, every detail mattered.

I couldn't take it anymore. My head felt like it was about to fall off. I just needed to sit then maybe....then maybe I could think and straighten things out.

My feet carried me over to a table and I sat down on the closest one, with my back towards Rogue and Brennan. It was for the best. If I didn't see them maybe then I could think clearly, straighten things out and find a way to fix everything.

I fixated on the red folder. I blinked once, then again. No, I couldn't start with that. If I was going to save my baby, I would have to look else where.

What would Jean-Luc do in this situation? But that would've never happened. Jean-Luc wouldn't have let this happen. He would've been there. He would've known what to do. He always knows what to do.

Not me.

What if? No, I quickly dismissed my thought before I could even finish it. No, I would have to think about something Hank or the Prof didn't think about. There's more than one way to enter a building so there just has to be a way to fix Brennan. I just have to use what we got.

There has to be a mutant around somewhere that can heal people. There just has to be. The Prof, he could find them and bring them here. It just has to work. No, I reminded myself he already tried that and couldn't find any one. And once again, my shoulders slumped in defeat.

"How are you doing, Remy?" A serene voice asked from behind me. I looked at the shadow casting over the table.

How long has she been standing there? How long have I been sitting here? It didn't matter. I just had to get away from everything.

I stood up away from the shadow but more importantly the person who the shadow belonged to. I walked back over to the observation window and picked up the discarded pack of cigarettes. I took one, lit it, and inhaled.

After a moment, I finally spoke. "Shouldn' be asking me. I'm de one dat's perfectly fine," I inhaled deeply, "How am I supposed t' be doing? I'm watching m' baby silently battle fo' his life.....He doesn't even know how t' roll over.....How can some one so tiny an' innocent fight against somet'ing life t'reatening?" I shook my head and looked away from Rogue and Brennan. I became fixated on where the adjacent wall met the floor and continued more softly, "Or even know what he's fighting for?"

I didn't know if I was asking Storm that. I didn't even know who I was asking those questions to or even if I was expecting an answer.

"Just have faith," she answered.

Can't silence be enough. Why do people feel the need to say something when silence is all you need?

Storm put her hand on my shoulder once again drawing me out of my thoughts.

And why do people think putting their hand on my shoulder is comforting? I shrugged her hand off, "Go please. An' tell de ot'ers not t' stop by anymo'. I don't need any of dis."

Storm hesitated. The same hesitation any one did when they came near us. An eerie hesitation. It was just another reminder.

"As you wish," she responded calmly.

Only when I heard the door close behind her, I exhaled. My head began to throb. My eyes clutched shut and my hands shot up to the sides of my head, holding the sides firmly. A vain attempt to stop my head from spinning. From loosing control.

I didn't need any of this. I didn't need any of them.

I opened my eyes and looked at Rogue through the glass. She was bent over Brennan although I could only see the back of her, I knew she was holding one of his little hand in hers while her one finger was lightly trailing around his face. She always did this whenever she would sing a lullaby. It was the same ritual every night. She would stand over his crib, with one finger tracing over his little face, singing softly a lullaby, all the while I stood back and watched, just smiling.

But all I did need was my family.

Rogue then looked up and slowly scanned from one side to the other. Did something happen? Was she looking for some one? Was she looking for me? Did she need me? Did she need me as much as I needed her?

I tossed aside my neglected cigarette, not even caring where it landed. I walked towards the door that separated us. Before punching in the code to open the door, I looked back at the two cups of coffee Jean made. I stood wavering, debating whether I should bring Rogue a cup. Deciding for it, I quickly walked over, grabbed the two cups, and punched in the code, an unnecessary hassle.

I waited for the doors to whoosh open and stepped into the room. I took two steps before I looked at what was before me. My breath caught in my throat. My arms went limp causing the cups to shatter when they crashed onto the cold tile, spilling the coffee everywhere. I couldn't catch my breath and I began to choke on it.

My eyes darted to the heart monitor. No more. No more steady beats. No more heart beating. Just a high-pitched hum. No more.

This couldn't be happening. I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't accept it. I couldn't accept it. I had hoped that maybe...

I then stared at Rogue. She was collapsed on top of Brennan. Her shoulders were shaking from her heavy sobs and embraced him. "Please....my baby...my beautiful baby....please, please don't go...don't leave me," she cried and pleaded with him, as if he could hear her or had a choice in staying with us.

I hunched over and held my hand against the wall. Something inside of me was growing and twisting into a jagged shape. I had to fight it. I had to get to them. I had to.

My legs went numb and collapsed underneath of me. I fell to the ground, the door the only thing supporting me. I held my bent knees with my arms, my forehead collapsed on top, my eyes held tightly shut.

This can't be happening.

Nightmares weren't real.

They can't come true...

* * *

**The next chapter should be up in about a week or two.**

**Please leave me some feedback and tell me what you thought about this story so far!**


	2. Dwindle

**A/N: Since it's the New Year I decided to follow the mass trend and make some resolutions for the upcoming year: 1. Start running again (I never knew running again could make even my eyelashes throb in pain) 2. Update more (I am a lazy bum and I'm doing my best trying to add to the stories as quickly as I can—of course this one starts now after this update) 3. Buy a winning lottery ticket that has an unbelievable high amount of money for the jackpot thus I can buy my way out of college. Well fulfilling 2 out of 3 resolutions ain't that bad right now. I still have the whole year left for the 3rd one. I'm sorry for the delay in updates but if you will refer to resolution #2, the wait in between updates should be kept at the bare minimum, lol.**

**Thank you soo soo much for the reviews. I think instead of printing the reviews out and hanging them on my fridge, I'll print them on t-shirts. That'll catch on, right? I love your reviews about as much as I love brownies or sleep and that's a whole lot. Please continue with the reviewing and I'll continue with the updating!**

**So I hope I didn't disappoint any one with this chapter. And Happy Belated Holidays!**

* * *

My hand runs blindly along the folds and bunches of the soft flannel sheets. Must have been a rough night of sleep. I try to smooth out some of the stubborn bunches but abandon it quickly and my hand continues its exploration over the sheet. My finger glides over the familiar dime sized hole and I know I'm almost there. My arm stretches out further as I reach for Remy. Just a little more. Anticipating the feel of him next to me, his hand reaching for mine, his lips perfectly pouted waiting to caress my hand with a kiss. Anything. But my hand comes up empty. Nothing but the smooth cool feeling of the sheets. 

I rolled over on my left side. My eyes flicked open. Empty. I rolled on my back and waited for the cloud of remaining slumber to lift from my head. My eyes closed again and my nose started to twitch. There was something unfamiliar in the air. I breathed through my nose determined to figure it out.

Is it? No, it can't be.

I breathed in more deeply this time.

Yes, it is.

Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. One more inhale. And something burning. Remy was cooking breakfast. Picturing Remy slaving over a hot stove with an apron on caused a lazy smile to etch itself on my face. He is a damn good cook that is if he didn't destroy the kitchen in the process. Eggshells, pots, pans, flour, and plates scattered all over would be the only remains when he was done.

Well if he was going to cook, he might as well twist my arm to get Brennan.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and clumsily stand. I begin to stumble over to Brennan's door, my mind still drunk from my prematurely interrupted sleep. I opened the door and flicked on the lights, "It's a good mo--." My eyes widened and my heart plummeted.

"Oh."

My breath shallow now. In and out. In and out. I tried to remind myself how to breath.

In.

I scanned the dark empty room.

Out.

His stuffed animals every one gave at the baby shower adorned the dressers.

In.

The bumblebee mobile that took Remy 4 hours to assemble hung proudly and triumphantly over Brennan's crib.

Out.

The wooden chair that creaked methodically with each rock that lulled Brennan to sleep.

In.

The "Goodnight Moon" book I read to him every night before he went to sleep lay carelessly on the small table.

Out.

The stars and moon wall paper that took us 5 days to decide on even longer to put on the walls. I originally wanted animal wallpaper and Remy wanted trains and planes. We fought about it for two weeks until we stumbled across this wallpaper in one of the many baby magazines we were subscribed to and thought it would be perfect for our baby.

In.

Little did I know that he would be actually sleeping with the stars and moon.

Out.

In.

Out.

Everything standing still, patiently waiting for him as if time stopped and can only start again when he returns.

I slowly tip toed backwards out of the room, not to disturb anything and shut off the lights before I closed the door in front of me.

A black and white checkered blanket lay balled up on the floor next to my bed. So that's where it went. I bent down, picked it up, and put it against my cheek.

Hmm, it still smells like him. And if I close my eyes its like he's still here and I'm happy. Complete. But of course I open my eyes and he's not. And I'm not. I grasped his blanket tightly to my chest until I could have sworn it was touching my heart and crawled back into bed, burying myself underneath the covers.

Every morning I go through the same thing. I wake from dreaming, thinking everything's the same as before when its not. And every morning, I reach for Remy who isn't there. And every morning, I check on Brennan who is no longer with me, who can't be with me.

And then it hits me and I remember what happened. It's like reliving his death over and over every single day. The other day I woke in a panic. I swear I heard him crying and I ran into his room only to find it empty. The day before that I woke up and looked around me. Curious and alarmed that I was alone, I laid and laid until I realized why I was. The same with the day before that and the one even before that. They all begin and end the same.

It's a punishment waking up each morning thinking that he's here with me. Sisphysus had his rock and I have this. And whatever is left of my heart crumbles into pieces every day. My body aches for my baby. It's an effort just to take a breath. And I think that I can't survive without him, that I can't live another day. But I do. And that kills me even more.

So I lay, lay waiting for the day I can lay next to him again.

_The day was so picturesque. It was such a slap in the face. The world didn't even notice he was gone forever. Gone from my life. How could the world go one when my stopped?_

"Rogue? Rogue, honey please come out?" a voice softly called from the door.

I didn't respond, just huddled underneath my covers more. The door slowly creaked open and I heard a small clang on the night table. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted over and through my mound of covers.

"Rogue," Jean began slowly, "Please come out."

I remained motionless, still curled up underneath the covers with the pillows over my head. Oh, if only she would push down. Put me out of my misery. No baby should be without his mother.

"Rogue," she tried again and I still wouldn't move. "Please? You have to eat something, you'll make yourself sick. Please?"

Something was consuming my body, it was dark, empty and never ending.

"Will you please come out? Or at least please talk to me. You can't keep everything bottled up, it'll make you sick. Please, please just answer me."

A loose feather poked through the down comforter I had myself wrapped in and was now poking me in my side. I didn't move. If I had move she wouldn't leave. If I had gotten out of bed, my baby would still be with me. No.... I couldn't start that again. It's too early in the day to start that.

"I will be back," Jean said as she closed the door behind her. I then heard her murmur to Logan. Not Logan, it was the Professor. No, she was talking to Scott. Good Jean was talking to dutiful Scott.

"How is she?"

"I don't know. She won't speak. She won't eat. All she does is just under the covers. I'm worried about her," Jean's voice strained.

"I know, we all are. But it's still early. It's going to be a while for her to be back on her feet."

"She never has been this reclusive. She even locked the door earlier, it's like she wants to keep something out."

"She's tough. She'll get through this. We'll be here for her."

Good, dutiful hopeful Scott. Always there to play the hero. But what use is a hero when there are no villains?

"Sometimes that's not enough." Jean paused and lowered her voice, "Have you seen Remy?"

"He comes and goes," Scott's voice also lowered, "Mostly just goes."

They were like two children. Two little children with a secret whispering about.

"He won't even let me talk to him."

Remy. I haven't seen him since that day…

"I don't know what to do. The professor won't intervene. It's all everyone talks about but no one wants to do something about it."

"Maybe there isn't anything we can do."

_The day was so picturesque. A fresh breeze blowing, a few birds chirping, the air so crisp, the sunlight flowing. The world didn't even shed a tear. Didn't even weep as I wept watching my baby being lowered._

It's very unnatural. He relied on me for everything and I did my best for him. But this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. I promised him. I promised him there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him. I would have done all the things for Brennan, all the things my mother denied me. I would be all she wasn't.

She was a model for what not to do as a mother. Never side with your boyfriend over your child. Never make your child afraid to go home. Never ignore your child when all she wants is a hug from you. Never send away your child because your boyfriend will only marry you if you get rid of her.

I would never ridicule my baby. Never scapegoat my baby as the cause why her father ran away. I would go to the ends of the earth and then some to protect my child unlike her. How could she stand there and watch her boyfriend hit me? How could she just turn her head when he got too close to me? How could she hate me so much when I loved her so?

I wanted to be the best for Brennan. I would never have left him. I would never leave him as my mom left me. It's just not right that he left me.

Soft three knocks rapped on the door.

The softness of the knocks caused me to stir. I wouldn't even call it a knock, it was more of a tap. Three delicate taps. As of the door was made out of a thin sheet of glass and would shatter if one knocked to roughly.

Curiosity drove my head out and above the covers. I could not recognize who could knock so beautifully. So heartbrokenly.

It was far from the powerful rough pounds Logan seemed to consider as knocks or Scott's authoritative evenly timed four knocks. Not even Hanks rapid knocks varying in tempo and tone as if composing a symphony nor Jean's and Storm's flowing but still firm knocks could compare to these three taps.

The delicate three tappings rapped on my door once more.

I was convinced these delicate tappings were echoing how I feel. Hypnotizing me with its emptiness, it drew out of bed to the door where I stood waiting for the next tap. I had to hear it again before I could open the door, just to make sure.

I waited and waited but no knock came. I slowly drew from my trance, walked back and climbed into the bed but not before retrieving the fallen black and white checkered blanket once more.

It's been quite a while since I have gotten out of bed voluntarily and even longer since I bathed. I haven't even seen the sun or moon in days maybe weeks. Who knows? But I really do. The last time was on that day.

The day that haunts me still. The day when a mother buried her baby boy.

_A fresh breeze blowing. I stood up, my knees wobbled. This is where he belongs. With me. In my arms. I bent over and placed him gently down. He felt so cold. So cold and limp in my arms. I felt like a little girl putting her baby doll in the crib. This couldn't be happening._

I can't take it.

I tossed myself onto my right side. My attention caught by the wilting orchid on my dresser. I bought that plant when we moved in. The long stem curved in the middle and drooped down a bit making the once beautifully straight and healthy plant look like an upside down "J". Only three petals remained, the others once soft and fragrant now frail and shriveled littering the top of my dresser and the floor below it.

I wonder…Does the orchid know it's dieing? Does it feel pain? Would it scream if it could? Can it feel itself loosing control? Does it understand what we are going through? Would he recognize me if he saw me again? Will he remember me?

"Rogue," a clatter followed my name.

It was too late to hid myself under the blankets. I never dared to move in front of anyone so I just laid staring at the dying orchid, hoping Jean wouldn't go too far.

But she stayed put andcontinued, "I made your favorite, fried chicken and mash potatoes. Please have some. At least try it. If you don't want it tell me and I'll make something else," she waited for a response, "If you won't eat it for yourself, try eating it for me, please. We need you."

I felt the bed sink down to my left. She must be sitting on the bed. She sat silently as I laid in pain.

God, I feel like I am in Limbo. The place between the living and the dead. Barely hanging on. All my pain dulling everything around me, making it not quite real as if it all is some sorta fucked up nightmare. Like everything is in hyper speed and I'm in slow motion.

Limbo, the state of being forgotten.

Limbo, the imaginary place for lost or neglected things.

Limbo, the place of the innocent and infants. God, I hope my baby is somewhere better than where I am.

Jean cleared her throat, "Well, I know…uh...I've…," she cleared her throat again, "We'll try it again tomorrow."

She rubbed her hand in two small circles on my back before standing up. I rolled on my side as soon as I heard the door close behind her. I pushed the covers down away from my face.

Dinner. She brought me dinner. But I thought she just brought me breakfast. I looked at the plate then at the alarm clock. An eerie shiver ran from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes and back up again. I haven't looked at that clock since Remy and I were waiting out Brennan's cries for help.

Oh my god.

I shot up in bed. I can't remember. I can't remember the sound of my baby's cries. I cursed at myself. I closed my eyes to make it easier to concentrate on searching for him. I have to find him. I have to remember what his cries sound like. I can't loose him, the thought of loosing him again caused tears to swiftly spill down my face.

"My baby, my baby Brennan," I muttered to myself, hoping to remember if I said his name.

My face contorted to one of a pained look. Where is he? I can never forget. I can never loose him. He's here somewhere. It felt like I was breathing under water, suffocating slowly. But that was unimportant, I can--- I found him! My face relaxed and my heart began to beat gain. His sweetly high-pitched scream rang through my head, easing me back into bed.

Memories of him flashed before my eyes. His sweet toothless smile. His curdles and gurgles. His breath taking big blue eyes as deep as the ocean always opened wide, taking everything in from the world. My fallen angel. Too beautiful to live in this world.

_Birds chirping. Wheezes and gasps. Eyes blurred from tears and half closed from pain. Kurt speaking about life and its beauty. I didn't want to hear it, if I did hear it than that would make it that more real. Someone's hands supporting me. Holding me back from jumping in after Brennan._

I wrapped the blankets tightly around me, tighter than any one could hold their lover.

Five melodiously knocks punctured my silence. Hank was here for his nightly visit. He knew the routine. He wouldn't wait for a response, he would let himself in and walk over to the side of my bed,just waiting. And sure enough he did.

"Hello my dear," he greeted evenly, "How are you feeling?" They always asked questions I would never answer but that didn't stop them from asking. "Well, I see Jean's been here already." He must have noticed the plate of food. How observant.

I'm glad no one else came to visit today. I can't stand laying there as they watch, like a predator observing its prey. Half the time I don't even notice them. Lost in my thoughts, haunted by my memories, segregating myself from reality, giving up on living as they would sit watching, wondering to themselves if I would ever snap out of it. I hated it. So I would block them out and usually the click of the door shutting would be the only evidence that some one was in the room.

"Yes, well you know where I am." Even with the pile of covers over me, I could see his awkwardness and his overwhelming guilt. That's probably why he gave me things, things he would have never given me before.

"Yes well here you are," he said with the familiar clang of the water glass and the muffled thunk of the pill against the table. "I will check on you tomorrow," his soft paws against the hardwood floor reminded me of the pitter patter sound a baby makes when he first walks. But soon the soft pitter patter was muffled by the click of the door.

I rolled on my back staring at the white ceiling. Searching for anything.

_The air becoming more crisp. My eyes roamed through the thin crowd and landed on Remy standing across from me. My heart wrenched. Our pained eye met. My mouth opened, wanting to mouth something. He closed his eyes and held them shut for a moment or two. Then opened them, still connected to me. My pain reflecting back at me. Breaking from me, he once more fixated on our son's casket in between us. The saddest thing I have ever seen...the tiny casket, no longer than my arm._

I am dwindling as the evening star's glow fades against the rising sun's blazing light. But unlike the evening star, I will not return for the many nights ahead, I will keep dwindling until I become nothing.

I rolled on my side, reached for the pill with one hand and the glass with the other. I popped in the pill and drank the water. I placed the glass on the table and laid back down, waiting for the pill to kick in.

It allowed me to sleep. To sleep peacefully, the only sense of peace I had left. To dream of happier times. The way everything was before.

Brennan may have left me but I could never leave him.

_The sunlight flowing. Blades of grass in between my fingers as I kneel. Too much pain. I gasp and moan in between my sobs, everything inside of me directed towards crying for my baby. I fall forward, my ear against the ground. My arms curved out trying to hug the ground. The words "Walk carefully our baby rests here," on a square grave stone. Above it, a baby cherub looking down at me. No one can take me away. I will never go away. I will never let go._

_The day was so picturesque._

My mind and body became paralyzed with the feeling of simplicity the pill caused to run through my veins. Sleep was near. Happiness is mine as soon as I close my eyes, encouraging me to do so.

My breathing deep and rhythmic like the ocean. And my mind began to drift way. Drift to my favorite times. Taking me away form everything while warming my heart with the fondness.

The bed shook and creaked, the familiar "haah" sound soon followed. All mine…

--

My hand runs blindly along the folds and bunches of the soft flannel sheets. Must have been a rough night of sleep…

* * *

Please leave me some feedback and tell me what you thought about this chapter! 


End file.
